


043 "pool party"

by wheel_pen



Series: Iron Man AU [43]
Category: Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fish out of Water, My Pepper is different, Pre-Iron Man, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-12
Updated: 2013-04-12
Packaged: 2017-12-08 07:35:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/758780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony and Pepper are throwing a pool party for the Rhodes family. There are foodstuffs to sample, bikinis to buy, clowns to not hire, and general all-around genial mayhem. “The day of the pool party dawned warm and bright. At least I assume it did; I certainly wasn’t awake when it happened.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 1) My Pepper is very different from canon Pepper. Her personality/origin is very different; to separate her from canon Pepper I've given her a new last name and a different hair color.
> 
> 2) The bad words are censored. That's just how I do things.
> 
> 3) Stories are numbered in the order I wrote them, which isn't necessarily the order in which they occur. The timeline is Chapter 2 of story 031 “wet.”
> 
> I wrote this series after the first Iron Man movie came out. It's very AU but I hope you'll enjoy it anyway. I own nothing and appreciate the chance to play with these characters.

“ _Hey, Tony! What’s up, man?_ ”

“Hey, Rhodey. Not too much. Torturing designers, getting beat up by my secretaries, taking out the hot chicks…”

“ _Ah. So, just the usual, then?_ ”

I grinned into the phone. “Yep. Anything new with you? I haven’t talked to you since your trip. How was Bolivia?”

“ _Hot, humid, and—g-------t, Tony! Is this a secure line?_ ”

I laughed. “Dude, you totally s—k at that whole ‘classified’ thing,” I mocked. The slight buzzing on the phone line indicated Rhodey had switched to his ‘secure’ mode. My cell phone was _always_ secure. Because that’s just the kind of guy I was.

“ _How did you know I was in Bolivia?_ ” he demanded peevishly.

I had several lines of evidence, including the international intelligence information I was privy to, rumors of US military objectives, and most importantly—“Next time, don’t call me from the main market square in La Paz,” I advised him smugly. “I’ve _been_ in that market, I know _exactly_ what those d—n squawking birds sound like.”

I could practically hear him roll his eyes. “ _Okay, fine, you’re brilliant_ ,” he conceded. “ _But I’m not telling you anything else about the trip!_ ”

“No, no, of course not.” I had other, less scrupulous sources I could pump for information about _that_. “I just wanted to invite you guys to a barbecue at my house. You and Rae and the kids.” I hadn’t had them, or anyone else, over lately (during daylight hours, at least) because I’d been busy rewiring the house for the central computer I was going to design. Well, Rhodey’d been helping with that so _he_ had been over, but exposed wires weren’t exactly child-friendly. All of the first floor was done now and we hadn’t started on the yard yet, so I figured this would be a good time.

“ _And_ _will Pepper be there?_ ” Rhodey asked. “ _Oh, wait, of_ course _she will, because she_ lives _there!_ ” Now _his_ tone was unbearably smug.

“I regret admitting that to you,” I informed him. “Is it really that weird that my assistant lives with me?”

“ _Not_ that _weird_ ,” he agreed. But I knew that wasn’t what he’d meant, and he _knew_ I knew. “ _But it’s weird that it took you_ two years _to realize it!_ ”

Some people just couldn’t let those little things go. But, that’s what friends were for, to mercilessly rib each other over their shortcomings. “ _Anyway_ ,” I said pointedly, to bring us back on track, “barbecue, pool party, my place. Is Saturday good for you guys? Do you need to check with the little woman first?”

“ _You better check with your_ own _little woman_ ,” Rhodey scoffed. “ _Pepper might have plans for that day, you know_.”

“Pepper’s plans for Saturday are to cater to my whims, just like every day,” I reminded him. “Seriously, you should see her datebook. ‘Monday: Cater to Mr. Stark’s whims. Tuesday: Cater to Mr. Stark’s whims. Wednesday: Cater to Mr. Stark’s whims, get manicure.’ That’s all it says.”

“ _Lucky you_.”

“It’s exhausting,” I insisted cheekily. “I have to keep coming up with all these new whims or she gets bored.”

Rhodey snorted, but it was a nice kind of snort. I had missed him while he was gone. And I could tell from the tone of his insults that he had missed me. If he’d been gone any longer we might’ve had to express ourselves with a wrestling match or something. “ _Alright, man, we’ll be there_ ,” he agreed.

“Good,” I told him. “Because I need you to barbecue.”

Again with the eye-rolling. “ _Tony_ —“

“Well, you don’t want _me_ to do it,” I suggested.

“ _No, I prefer_ not _to eat the carbonized remains of steak_ ,” Rhodey concurred.

“And you don’t want Pepper to do it,” I persisted. “She would probably just eat the meat raw. I think that’s what they do among her tribe. Maybe Rae could do it…?”

But I knew _that_ wouldn’t happen because—“ _No, I’d be sleeping in the guest room for a week if I took her out then made her cook when we got there_.”

“So that leaves…” I gave it some thought. “Wait, maybe I should’ve made a list. But I _think_ that just leaves… Yeah, it leaves you.”

“ _I guess it does_ ,” he sighed.

“Unless you wanna teach Buster to do it,” I offered. “But I’d rather not have dog hairs in my hamburger.”

“ _Fine, you win_ ,” Rhodey sighed, and I grinned. I liked winning. “ _I’ll do the barbecuing_.”

“Awesome!” I encouraged him. “I got a new grill you can play with. It has _tons_ of buttons and knobs.”

“ _A_ new _grill? What happened to the old one?_ ”

“Oh, I gave it away,” I replied off-hand. “Mary’s son’s brother-in-law’s cat or whatever. Said he would take it as-is, so I got rid of it.”

Rhodey sounded far too confused for a man charged with protecting our nation’s military secrets. “ _’As-is’? What was wrong with it?_ I _only used it once and I’m pretty sure_ you _never touched it. Wait, did you hit it with your car again?_ ”

Easily confused by simple concepts, yet with a long memory for mundane details. Why did I surround myself with such people? “No, I did not hit the grill with my car,” I informed him.

“ _Again_.”

I ignored that. “It was just really, like, _dirty_ after you used it that one time,” I revealed. “No offense or anything, the burgers were delicious.”

There was a slight pause, during which I thought he might indeed have been offended. That ‘no offense’ thing really never worked, did it? “ _You gave away your grill—your several thousand dollars’ worth of grill—because it was_ dirty _?_ ” Rhodey restated.

“Yeah,” I shrugged.

“ _You_ _couldn’t just, I don’t know,_ clean it _?_ ”

I rolled my eyes. “Like Pepper has time to do that,” I scoffed. “She’s way too busy catering to my whims. Besides, this new grill is even shinier and more expensive! It’s the latest model. There’s colored lights on it, too—did I mention the colored lights?”

“ _Some people have too much money_ ,” Rhodey muttered, but not in a mean way.

“Hey, that’s how you got _your_ grill,” I felt the need to remind him, also not in a mean way. “I would’ve offered you this last one but you were out of town and I didn’t know if Rae had the proper appreciation for grills.”

“ _Probably not_ ,” he admitted. “ _She would’ve told you to clean it, and that you had too much money_.” Possibly in a slightly mean way.

“Wait’ll she sees the new toilet flusher handles I’ve got all over the house,” I grinned. “They’re shaped like dolphins! Pepper found them in a catalog, only twenty bucks apiece. Something I had never, ever thought of decorating before.” I heard Rhodey making noises of despair on the other end of the line. “I think I’m gonna get them for everyone I know this Christmas,” I continued blithely. “How many toilets in your house again?”

“ _We’ll be there Saturday_ ,” Rhodey replied, coming back to the point. “ _Eleven-thirty? What can we bring?_ ”

He always offered, which I guess was what they thought was polite in his neck of the woods. But I always told him—“Nothing, except your mad grilling skillz. Maybe more like eleven-fifteen, though, I’m gonna throw a couple more pounds of meat on for Pepper. I’ll feed her beforehand but the woman is a black hole from which no food escapes. Er, not that I would _want_ food to escape from her, visibly I mean, that’d be pretty gross.”

“ _Thanks for that_ ,” Rhodey commented dryly.

“You’re welcome. Hey, if Rae _insists_ on bringing something”—which _she_ always did, again chalk it up to weird regional differences in etiquette I guess—“have her make the green bean casserole.”

“ _Why?_ ” he asked suspiciously. “ _You hate the green bean casserole_.”

“I want to see if Pepper will eat it.” Obviously. “I bet she will. Any takers?”

“ _Considering all the other things she’s eaten? No bet_.”

“Rae will be quite pleased, then,” I decided. It was so nice when I could make all my friends happy. “Saturday, late morning. Pepper will let you in, you guys just make yourselves at home and start grilling. I’ll be asleep upstairs.”

“ _Be alone and wearing clothing_ ,” Rhodey stipulated, “ _’cause I’m sending the kids to wake you up. And the dog._ ”

I smiled. “Sounds delightful! I’ll see you then.”

Having secured the presence of Rhodey and his family, I moved on to other important tasks relating to the cook-out. If I wasn’t careful, today would end up being unusually productive.

“Yes, Mr. Stark?” Pepper asked, upon responding to my summons.

“I just received confirmation from the Major, Pepper,” I informed her. “Operation Grill Master is a go!”

“Yes, sir.” She pulled out the ‘action plan’ I’d had her make. It had tables and flow charts and color-coding and everything. I couldn’t make any sense of it at all. “Shall I commence the sampling of foodstuffs?”

“Good idea,” I agreed. I wanted to make sure I was serving my friends only the best. “What sort of, er, foodstuffs are on the list?”

“I have done some research on appropriate barbecue foods,” Pepper began, settling onto the edge of my desk per my direction. “Besides the meat products you specified and the barbecue sauce from—“

“George’s Finger-Lickin’ Medium BBQ Glaze from George’s Meat Hut on West Dakotan,” I reminded her insistently. “It _must_ be that, Pepper. I can’t stress that enough. The proper sauce is crucial to a successful barbecue.”

“Yes, sir,” she agreed. She hadn’t actually _disagreed_ with me on this point, but I felt she hadn’t really grasped its importance during my multiple lectures on the subject. Pepper tended to appreciate the calorie count of food more than its taste or appearance—though unlike a lot of the women I knew, she wanted the calorie count to be _higher_.

“Personally, I prefer George’s A-s-Kickin’ Extra Hot BBQ Glaze,” I went on, as I often did. “But Rae and the kids don’t really seem to enjoy sauce so spicy it makes you cry.” Pepper blinked at me patiently. “You may continue,” I allowed her.

“Besides the meat and barbecue sauce”—she glanced at me as if checking to see if I was going to interrupt again—“common barbecue food items include potato chips, potato salad, fruit salad, mashed potatoes, coleslaw, creamed corn, three-bean casserole, cornbread—“

“Pepper, we’re not feeding an army,” I cut in. “And what’s up with all the potatoes? Are you on a starch kick or something?”

“This list merely reflects the results of my research,” she reminded me primly. “If you wish to specify food items, I will attempt to acquire them.”

Pepper didn’t like me criticizing her research. She had that frosty tone in her voice now and her level of formality had increased. I rubbed her leg placatingly. “You’re so _good_ at acquiring specific food items, Pepper,” I complimented her with all sincerity. She seemed to loosen up a little—sometimes a little positive feedback was all it took. “I think Rae’s gonna bring a green bean casserole, so why don’t we go with potato salad, fruit salad, and, um, rolls or bread of some kind? You can stop by a bunch of little delis and bakeries this week and bring home samples for us!” This to me was almost as exciting as the actual party. “And check out their pies and pastries for dessert. Maybe something chocolate—chocolate goes with barbecue. Maybe chocolate cupcakes!”

Pepper was nodding and moving tape flags around on her action plan. I let her finish so she wouldn’t get confused. Barbecues were delicate matters that one didn’t want to screw up with undue haste. “There will be four adults and two children present?” I nodded. “And do the children eat the same food as the adults?”

“Er, yeah, Pepper, they’re not babies.” A thought occurred to me. “Um, so, do you have much experience with kids, Pepper?”

“No.” Yeah, coulda guessed that.

“Well, you might want to do some reading on the subject,” I suggested, dubious that this would actually help. “They can be kind of loud sometimes. And chaotic. And immature. Occasionally obnoxious, although Rae usually keeps them in line.”

“Loud, chaotic, immature, obnoxious,” Pepper repeated thoughtfully. “I think I can handle that.”

“Oh, ha ha,” I said after a second. “Yes, actually kids _are_ a lot like me, except without all the drinking, swearing, and sex. Oh hey, that reminds me,” I added, just in time, “put on your list to childproof the house.”

Pepper accessed her little internal database, which may or may not have been wirelessly connected to the Internet. “You wish me to obstruct all unused electrical outlets and pad all sharp corners on furniture?”

“Um, no,” I corrected. Should have seen that one coming. “I mean, usually when the kids come over, I hide all the booze, condoms, porn, that kind of thing. Like, put it down in the workshop—they won’t go down there.”

“Remove alcohol, contraceptives, and pornography—in both print and video form—from the main floor of the house,” Pepper recited, adding it to her list. She was very thorough that way.

“Except leave some beer in the fridge, Rhodey and I will drink it. Oh and don’t—you’re not actually writing ‘alcohol, contraceptives, and pornography’ down, are you?” I questioned, trying to peer at her action plan. “Don’t write that _down_ , Pepper!” I wasn’t embarrassed about my perfectly legal habits. But a piece of paper with that reminder actually spelled out on it was practically begging to be accidentally left in the break room and published on the Smoking Gun later that day. Which just wasn’t necessary, really, especially when it involved an innocent pool party with my friends. “Call them by codewords or something, Pepper,” I instructed. “You like codewords.”

She gave it some thought, then started writing again. “’Childproof main level by removing all cows, chickens, and goats to the workshop,’” she tried, pleased with her efforts.

I closed my eyes briefly. “Yeah, that works,” I decided. “Let’s move on. What else is on your action plan, Action Pepper?”

“Entertainment,” she replied, peering at the chart. “I will arrange for the pool to be cleaned this week and tested for levels of toxic chemicals.”

“Oh good.” Of course I’d already been swimming in it several times lately, so hopefully those levels of toxic chemicals would be low.

“Should any other form of entertainment be arranged?” she asked me uncertainly, which I appreciated because Pepper’s idea of a fascinating experience was watching water boil. “Will the children require additional entertainment?”

“Well, the pool will be the main attraction, since Rhodey doesn’t have one,” I decided. “Oh, have the hot tub cleaned and all with the rest of the pool. The adults might hang out there a little.” I gave the entertainment question serious thought. I didn’t throw parties very often, at least not without a professional party planner—it was a lot of work, as evidenced by all Pepper’s lists and charts. “I guess when you’re moving the, er, chickens and whatever, you might put some of the kids’ movies at the front of the collection. Those would be any rated G or PG,” I added for clarification. “Oh, and take all the violent, scary video games downstairs, too, so they won’t whine about wanting to play them.”

Pepper was dutifully transcribing my orders. “Cows, chickens, goats, and sheep,” she murmured to herself. I waited patiently. “Should I obtain the services of a clown?” she asked suddenly.

The question caught me off-guard. “Er—what? A clown?”

“My research into children’s activities”—oh, she’d already thought of looking into that—“indicates clowns are popular entertainers. Also monkeys, but I felt that might be too uncontrolled.”

I stared at her. “No, Pepper, just—What the h—l kind of websites have you been reading? Clowns are terrifying! They’re brightly-colored masked jesters of perverse mind tricks! At least, er, to children, I mean,” I added, clearing my throat. “Who don’t understand them.”

Pepper looked at me in some confusion. “But there was a clown at one of _your_ childhood birthday celebrations, sir.”

“How did you know that?” I asked in surprise.

“I’ve seen photographic evidence.”

“ _Where?_ ” As far as I knew, all the family photos were in storage somewhere, along with everything else that had been in my parents’ house.

“Mr. Gyer has a photograph on his desk of you as a child, posing with him during a celebration,” Pepper explained. “There is a clown in the background. Mr. Gyer told me it was taken at your birthday party.”

“Oh yeah.” Pepper was very observant. “Yeah, my seventh birthday,” I reminisced, darkly. “My parents hired a clown. Cubbins. You’d think clowns would be named Bobo or something, but not this one. Cubbins.” The name was burned into my psyche. “Me and the other kids pantsed that clown and shoved him into the pool. No more than he deserved for those creepy balloon animal tricks.”

I came back to the present day and looked up to see Pepper regarding me with a worried expression. “Balloon animal tricks?” she repeated, as though this were a string of random words.

“Trust me, you would freak if you saw them,” I assured her. “So no clowns, right, Pep?”

“No clowns,” she agreed.

“Don’t want to give the children nightmares,” I added.

“Yes, we must think of the children.”

Somehow I felt she wasn’t taking this issue seriously enough. Nonetheless I had made my will clear on the matter. Clowns were taboo. “And no other performers or party workers or anything,” I told her. “Just the pool will be fine, I’m sure. They’ll probably bring some toys with them anyway. Oh, I almost forgot about the dog.”

Pepper looked over at me slowly. “The _dog_?”

“Yeah, his name’s Buster, he’s a great dog as dogs go,” I enthused. My parents were not pet people, though I would have gladly sacrificed a few nannies to have a dog as a child. I could have gotten one anytime I wanted now, of course, but it was too much of a commitment with my jetsetting, erratic lifestyle. I didn’t want to be one of those wealthy dog owners who saw the pooch for ten minutes a week and passed it off to handlers the rest of the time.

I could see from Pepper’s expression, however, that she did not harbor similar sympathies. “You’re not allergic to dogs or anything, are you?”

“You didn’t mention that they would be bringing a domesticated canine with them,” she chided me, a bit severely I thought. The tape flags fluttered on her action plan as she rearranged them yet again. “This will necessitate additional research and preparation.”

“No, it won’t,” I protested. Leave it to Pepper to make a big deal out of simple things. “Well, research maybe, if you aren’t used to dogs, and incidentally, Pepper, you might want to try, you know, actually _experiencing_ life sometime.”

“Says the man who thought Wal-Mart was a store that sold walls,” she observed dryly.

“Hey, I don’t shop there,” I reminded her defensively. “I’m not in the retail sector. Walls have to come from _somewhere_. And, don’t try to tell me _you_ didn’t make the same mistake, too.”

She didn’t deny it, but neither did she seem appropriately put in her place. What was up with people throwing these little misunderstandings back in my face today? Well, maybe, as with Rhodey, Pepper’s jabs meant she had missed me while she was gone, er, at lunch. I was cheered by this thought.

“Does the _dog_ eat the same food the humans do?” Pepper asked me.

“No, actually, Rae doesn’t like him to eat people food,” I remembered. “Get a bag of kibble for him while you’re out. Dog food,” I clarified at her expression. “Dry dog food in a bag. There’s a bag in the pantry you can check for the brand, but it’s probably old and stale now.”

“A bag in the pantry?” Pepper repeated, with an odd expression on her face. “Of _dog food_?”

“Yeah, I don’t remember what it looks like, blue or yellow maybe, probably has a picture of a dog on it,” I described. “It was probably on one of the lower shelves, just kind of folded over.” She looked pensive. It was the same kind of look Obadiah had when he was calculating the damages after a production setback. A grin burst suddenly across my face. “You ate some, didn’t you?!” I accused gleefully.

“I did not,” she refuted immediately, but with some awkwardness.

I let out a few good chuckles. “Ha ha ha, you ate the dog food!” I cackled. “Was it good? Did you eat it all? Don’t worry, it won’t hurt you, it’s mostly corn or whatever. I _thought_ your coat had been looking glossier lately. Ha ha! You ate the dog food…”

“Actually I fed it to you, sir,” Pepper countered coolly.

My laughter died mid-giggle. “What?”

“I thought it was cereal,” she explained, without a hint of remorse. “So I gave it to you in a bowl of milk one morning. I thought it would help keep your teeth clean. That’s what the bag said.”

I blinked at her, uncertain how I felt about this revelation. “When was this?”

“About a month ago.”

“Wait—was this the really hard, crunchy stuff with the weird smell that we ended up microwaving just so I could chew it?” I asked suspiciously.

“Yes, sir. But you still didn’t like it, and you told me to throw it out and get you a bagel.”

There was a long pause. “I can’t believe you fed me dog food, Pepper,” I finally judged. “That was really lax on your part.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“You don’t sound very sorry.”

“I assure you, I am,” Pepper declared. “I would understand completely if you insisted upon making your own breakfast from now on.”

“Well hold on, Pepper, let’s not overreact,” I replied quickly. “What’s a little dog food between friends, right? I didn’t get sick from it or anything. Er, did I?” I didn’t quite recall.

“No, sir.”

“Well, see—no harm done,” I decided. “Live and learn. Please read the labels a bit more closely next time, though, okay?”

“Yes, sir,” she agreed. “You still wish me to fix your breakfast then?”

“Absolutely. Without question.” Hey, anyone could make a mistake, right? But there was no need to take drastic action because of it—I mean, fixing my _own_ breakfast? Pepper would have to do a _lot_ worse than merely feed me dog food to get out of _that_ chore. “So why don’t you just email Rhodey and ask what kind of dog food they use, and get a bag for Saturday? For the dog to eat,” I emphasized.

“Yes, sir.”

I snickered suddenly as she was scribbling a note. “I can’t believe you fed me dog food, Pepper! That’s really funny. This story may come up on Saturday.” At least no one could accuse me of taking these little mishaps too seriously. “Well, all this party planning has sure been fun, Pep,” I announced, “but my brain is fried after all these highs and lows you’ve put me through. I think I’m gonna go surfing. Was there anything else I needed to do today?” Wouldn’t want to get too much done on any one day—then people might get _expectations._

“There is one more major item on the action plan, sir,” Pepper informed me.

I flopped back in my chair with a sigh. “And what is that, Pep?”

“Attire.”

“A tire?” I asked in confusion.

“Clothing,” she corrected. “Specifically, swimwear. As I recall, you don’t care for the swimsuit I currently own.”

“No, no, I don’t. Thank you for reminding me of that, Pepper.” Last summer I had badgered Pepper into trying out the hot tub with me, and the suit she wore—I shuddered at the memory. It looked like something my grandmother would’ve worn on a hot date. Other women had perfectly respectable dresses that showed more skin than this waterproof monstrosity. Queen Victoria would’ve rejected it as overkill in the modesty department. The total yardage—

“Yes, sir, I understand you didn’t care for it,” Pepper interrupted, just when I was on a roll.

“Oh. Right.” That was the last time I had bothered with Pepper and swimsuits. Until now, of course. “Well, Pep, it’s a pool party, and everyone else is going to be in swimwear. It would be really strange if you were walking around in a business suit. It would make the rest of us self-conscious.”

“I doubt it would make _you_ self-conscious, sir,” she observed correctly. “However, I am prepared to obtain a second swimsuit that may meet with your approval.”

I sat up a little straighter. This sounded promising. “You’re gonna go swimsuit shopping? Maybe I should tag along, to provide a second opinion,” I offered generously. “It can be difficult to judge swimsuits alone. In fact, forget surfing, let’s go do that today. Right now.”

“That’s very kind, sir,” Pepper replied, in a tone that suggested she questioned the purity of my motives. “But I’ve already arranged for a shopping companion on this mission.”

“Oh? Who’s that? Do you need a third, totally objective opinion to be a tie-breaker?” The only thing better than shopping for swimsuits with a hot chick had to be… shopping for swimsuits with _two_ hot chicks.

“Mrs. Salyers,” Pepper revealed.

I blinked at her. Mary was my grandmotherly secretary who had occupied her desk just outside my office for years, almost since I joined the company in fact. She was soft and squishy and cuddly and gave bear hugs with full-arm-wraparounds. Like a toy animal, her stuffing should be contained by snuggly fleece. Even when my mind traitorously attempted to picture her in a swimsuit, the image returned was a blinking ‘does not compute’ sign. In a supreme act of self-restraint, I smothered any comments that sprang into my mind and replied with merely a slightly strangled, “Oh?”

“Yes, Mrs. Salyers is going to visit her son in Arizona soon and wishes to acquire a new swimsuit for use in his pool,” Pepper elaborated, confirming my fear that Mary was _not_ merely to be an observer on this trip. “We plan to begin our search over lunch tomorrow. Should I ask her if you can accompany us, sir?”

“No, Pepper, thanks though,” I assured her blandly. I felt a bit sick at the idea which, considering everything else we’d covered in this conversation, like me eating dog food for example, was really saying something.

Pepper nudged my leg with her foot to regain my attention. “I will attempt to acquire a swimsuit that meets with your approval,” she repeated encouragingly. No doubt I looked a bit grey and waxy, which concerned her.

Oh, and speaking of wax—“So, Pepper, do you know about bikini waxes?” I questioned, snapping back to my normal professional self.

“Yes, sir,” she replied promptly. I wasn’t sure if I was disappointed or relieved that I wouldn’t get to explain. “I will remove all socially-unacceptable body hair before donning the swimsuit.”

“Okay, good. Where do you go for that?” I asked curiously. “Waxes and manicures and stuff? Not tanning, obviously…”

“I perform routine grooming services myself,” my vanilla-custard-pale assistant replied.

“Even haircuts?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm, interesting,” I decided. “I like this little place on La Cienega—“

“Yes, sir, I know, I make all your appointments there,” Pepper reminded me patiently.

“Oh, right. Well, they’re really good there. The stylist is kind of a drama queen but the manicurist and waxer are very good listeners. Not to mention highly talented.” Okay, I admit it, I was a metrosexual. I liked to look good. A little foot polishing and eyebrow plucking did not threaten my masculinity. “You could go there. I could get you in.”

“Thank you, sir,” she answered politely, “but I prefer to take care of such chores myself.” Then she paused, weighed the consequences, and actually—gasp!—volunteered some personal information. “I don’t really like people touching me.”

Granted, this wasn’t exactly a revelation to me, but it still counted as sharing. “I don’t have to move my hand, though, right?” I checked, as it was still resting against her leg.

Pepper smiled mildly. “No, sir. You’re fine.” Score one for me. Score _ten_ for me.

“Want me help with that bikini wax, Pep?” I offered with a grin.

“No, thank you.” She seemed to be chewing over something else important (hopefully not dog food) so I waited for her to continue. “I also don’t like getting wet.”

“I know. You won’t be required to get wet.” We had already suffered through one unfortunate incident involving Pepper’s susceptibility to chills after a drenching rain—I certainly wasn’t going to make her wallow in pool water for hours. She’d probably get pneumonia. “You need only lounge in the sun in your new swimsuit while reading a trashy magazine.”

“That would be acceptable,” she agreed. She moved another couple of tape flags around on her action plan, then slid off my desk. I watched her leave her perch reluctantly. It seemed as though I ought to be able to find _something_ else to talk to her about, to keep her around.

“You wanna come down to the beach with me, Pep?” I asked hopefully. “You don’t have to get wet, you can just stay on the sand and admire me.”

“No, thank you, sir,” she replied, disappointingly. “I prefer to admire your surfing form from afar.”

“Afar as in, your desk here?” I guessed.

“Just so, sir.”

“Well, alright,” I allowed with a sigh. “Check the conditions at my favorite spots and let me know where it’s best, okay, Pepper? I’m gonna go home and grab my board,” I decided.

“Yes, sir.”

**

A couple days later, Obadiah walked into my office while my staff and I were hard at work. Of course, this hard work included much genial conversation and laughter, because that was just the kind of camaraderie all of us shared, but nonetheless we were at a serious purpose.

“Baked Bean Sample Number Four,” Pepper announced, placing a small Styrofoam cup marked with a prominent number 4 in front of each of my secretaries and myself. Having wiped off our plastic spoons and cleansed our palates with water—plain water!—per Pepper’s direction, we proceeded to dig in to the ounce or so of baked beans she had allotted us.

“This is very good,” Lois remarked immediately. Lois liked to be the first to comment.

“I don’t like it as much as number two,” Mary decided, nibbling some sauce off her spoon.

“It _does_ have a funny aftertaste,” Sheryl agreed. “What _is_ that? Some kind of spice?”

“It’s _bourbon_ ,” I informed them with delight, scraping my cup to get the last little bits. “This is _fantastic_ , Pepper! Get us a gallon of this.” Pepper, who had been circling the four of us with a clipboard and a penetrating stare, carefully logged all of our remarks about the beans.

“What, exactly, are you doing?” Obadiah asked, making his presence known. His tone suggested our activity wasn’t actually as bad as what he had feared he would find occurring in my office.

“We’re sampling foodstuffs!” I told him happily. Sampling foodstuffs was a very pleasant way to spend the afternoon, as it turned out. “Pepper, throw a scoop of number four into a cup for Ob. And get me some more, too.”

Pepper handed the bemused Obadiah a cup of baked beans but turned a cold gaze on my own empty cup. “A second helping will invalidate the results of the study,” she informed me. “However, you will be able to eat the leftover samples later, if you desire.”

“This _is_ really good,” Obadiah commented, before I could start pouting. “Where’s this from, Pepper?”

“I can’t reveal that information at this time, Mr. Stane,” she replied without hesitation. “This is a blind taste test.”

“Pepper, you’re such a good _proctor_ ,” I was forced to admit, though I tried to make the word sound as dirty as possible. “You’re maintaining our scientific integrity so well. Order a gallon of whatever it is for Ob, too.”

“As you wish,” Pepper agreed, making a note. “There are two more samples of baked beans, however.”

“Why are you sampling baked beans?” Obadiah asked, clearly mystified.

“I’m having a pool party Saturday, with Rhodey and his family,” I explained reasonably. “And we have to decide what to serve. You wanna come?” I offered generously. “There will be children and a dog.”

“No thanks,” Obadiah replied immediately.

I smirked. “Yeah, Pepper feels the same way,” I assured him, although technically Pepper was merely wary about the idea of encountering something new and chaotic. Obadiah had actually _experienced_ children and dogs and knew where his limits lay. “However, she is under my power and _compelled_ to attend,” I teased.

“Did you cleanse your palate?” she asked severely in return. “Wipe your spoon.” Everyone else at the table was way ahead of me, it seemed.

“Sit down and join us for the sampling,” I invited Obadiah, wiping my spoon carefully.

“I just stopped by to have you sign these,” he countered, holding out the papers he’d brought in.

I directed him to Pepper. “My lovely assistant handles all official documents,” I reminded him, taking the cup of Baked Bean Sample Number Five she handed me. “Pepper, you have my permission to forge my signature on that whole stack.”

“Yes, sir,” she replied, removing the papers from Obadiah’s grasp and tucking them away in her portfolio.

I had to laugh at the expression on his face. “Don’t worry, Ob, Pepper knows I’m joking. Er, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“See? Drag over a chair and have some beans.” Obadiah finally complied, though his body language indicated he was merely humoring me temporarily.

“Baked Bean Sample Number Five,” Pepper prompted efficiently.

“Too smoky,” said Lois.

“Not as good as number two,” said Mary.

“It’s got a weird spice in it,” said Sheryl.

“Needs bourbon,” I decided.

“Would it be wise to serve an alcohol-flavored dish at a party with children?” Pepper questioned, sensing I had chosen a favorite already.

“Well, it’s just the _flavor_ , right?” I asked, looking around at the ladies. Surely _one_ of them cooked things. “The actual alcohol burns off, right?”

“It was a little strong, though,” Mary opined. “I don’t think kids would like it.” The others seemed to agree.

I sighed, accepting their greater wisdom and experience in this area. “We’ll just get some of number four to eat amongst ourselves, then, Pepper,” I decided. “This one is okay, but I agree, too smoky. Ob?”

We all turned to stare at him and he looked slightly startled. Apparently he didn’t realize that a judgment was compulsory once he had agreed to sample foodstuffs with us. But Obadiah was a quick learner. “Tastes too burned.”

“Mm-hmm,” Pepper remarked, scribbling the comments down.

Preparations began for the transition to our final baked bean sample. “What else have you been eating today?” Obadiah asked, no doubt wondering how much time my staff and I had spent on this pursuit.

“We did cornbread and rolls already,” I reported without shame, “and potato salad. After we finish the beans we have some fruit salads to judge and then, finally—“

“Chocolate cupcakes!” the secretaries chorused, then giggled. Everyone was very excited about the chocolate cupcake sampling, myself included. Obadiah looked like he very much wanted to roll his eyes in disgust at our behavior, which didn’t bother me, of course.

“The baked beans were a last-minute addition to the menu,” I told him, precisely because I knew he didn’t care in the slightest. “Rae is bringing a green bean casserole, you see, but Pepper and I decided baked beans were a fundamentally different dish.”

“Ah,” Obadiah nodded, not putting much effort into faking interest.

“Baked Bean Sample Number Six,” Pepper announced. “The final baked bean sample of the day.”

“Why isn’t Pepper taste-testing with us?” Obadiah asked, neatly eating his mouthful of beans.

Pepper paused in her stenography and wiped some sauce off my face for me. “Thank you, Pepper. Because Pepper has no discernment about these things,” I explained to him. “She’ll eat anything. Hence, Rae’s green bean casserole.”

“Also, I was the one who obtained the food items,” Pepper added, “so I would not be able to provide an unbiased judgment.”

“So… Pepper isn’t taste-testing with us because… she likes all the tastes equally but would be swayed by their place of origin?” Obadiah summarized.

“You got it,” I confirmed cheerfully. “That’s the sort of logic we specialize in around here.”

“That would explain some of your designs,” he agreed.

“The Baked Bean Sampling has now ended,” Pepper decided. “Final votes for the favorite sample?” Number two seemed to be in the lead. Of course the only vote that really counted was mine, but since I was serving this to guests, not just eating it myself, I wanted to take other people’s tastes into account as well.

We moved on to the fruit salad sampling. “—and Pepper’s got a new swimsuit to wear,” I was telling Obadiah. “I told you about that hideous one she had before, right? With the skirt and the _sleeves_ and—“

“I’m sure you did,” he allowed. “This is disgusting,” he added, pointing at his fruit salad sample. “It’s practically pure syrup.”

“Yum!” I countered, scraping the last drops out of my cup. “So Mary and Pepper went swimsuit shopping yesterday—“

“Monday.”

“Monday? Or was it Tuesday?”

“Well, Monday _and_ Tuesday we went shopping, but the suit was bought Monday—“

“I thought it was Tuesday, because I was going out to lunch Tuesday and you said—“

Obadiah cleared his throat and we all stopped chattering to look at him. “This one has too many melon chunks,” he judged, indicating the latest fruit cup sample.

“Anyway,” I went on, overlooking his interruption, “Mary and Pepper went shopping the other day and Pepper got a _new_ swimsuit, which I haven’t seen yet. But,” I added eagerly, “Mary said it would ‘knock my socks off,’ right, and then Pepper said this hilarious thing—well, _you_ say it, Pepper. Remember? ‘Knock my socks off’? And you said—?”

“I merely commented on the likelihood that you would be _wearing_ socks if you were preparing to swim,” Pepper responded, looking up from her clipboard.

“Right, well, it was funnier when she said it before,” I assured Obadiah. “Oh, and then _Lois_ said—“

“No, no, it was _Sheryl_ who said—“

“Oh, right, right, and then—“

“How many samples are there of fruit salad, Pepper?” Obadiah asked, sounding a bit pained.

“There are eight in total, Mr. Stane,” I heard her reply in the background.

He started to stand, rather suddenly from my point of view. “Well, this has been fun,” he announced, with an admirable attempt at sincerity, “but I’d better get back to work now.”

“Well, if you must,” I allowed graciously. For a second I wished we were living a few hundred years in the past and I could make him kiss my royal ring before backing slowly from the room. He would really hate that.

“Could you get him to sign those and send them back to me by the end of today?” he requested of Pepper. He had learned long ago that Pepper took care of those little details for me. “See you later, Tony. Don’t get indigestion.”

“Yeah, thanks, Ob,” I replied, although it sounded more like a curse to me. “This one is _definitely_ out, there’s _raisins_ in it and that’s just weird…”

**

Another couple of days went by. Sometimes I was just so busy, the days were a blur for me. Or maybe the blurriness was due to my hangover.

“Did you read my memo, Tony?” Obadiah asked as we headed down the hall to somewhere. Where, I wasn’t sure. “Henderson is asking for only three and a half percent now.”

“Didn’t we agree on five?” I asked, squinting at the print-out he’d handed me. Everything was a little out of focus right now, thanks to my friend Jack Daniels.

“Hence the memo,” Obadiah shot back peevishly. “Now he says three and a half.”

“Hmm, well, that’s—less,” I commented dully.

Obadiah rolled his eyes. “I’m so glad your phenomenal math skills have been harnessed to our needs, Tony.”

“I’m _trying_ to—yeah, your total is off,” I declared, handing him back the ledger. “By about one and a half percent, I would say.”

“What?” Obadiah glared between me and the paper.

I snatched it back from him and passed it to Pepper, who was trotting along behind my left shoulder. “Sum,” I commanded, poking her arm like I was pressing a button on a computer.

We continued walking and waited for Pepper’s response. I wasn’t ashamed to say she was faster than me today, since after all her head was completely clear. “This total deviates from the projection by one-point-four-nine-nine percent,” she reported. I gave Obadiah a ‘told you so’ look.

He was not pleased by this turn of events, even though it explained Henderson’s actions. “How can the total be _off_?” he protested. “It’s an Excel sheet, you just tell it to add and it does.”

“Who are you gonna trust, me and Pepper or Excel?” I asked him smugly.

He weighed his options for a moment, then thrust the paper at Joanna. “Check that.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Never trust computers, Obie,” I went on insufferably. “Sometimes the little elves that run them get mad and make the numbers come out wrong. I know, I’m a programmer—er, elf supervisory agent. You don’t leave the milk out for them _one_ night and bam—What?” I asked, as Obadiah gave me a peculiar look.

“Oh, I was just visualizing the duct tape over your mouth,” he replied absently.

He could be kind of freaky and sinister that way. But I tried not to let it faze me. “That’s okay, sometimes I like to visualize you as Pepper’s naughty twin sister, but obviously _that’s_ never going to come true,” I shared. “Didn’t realize you were into bondage, Ob, but somehow I’m not surprised.”

For a second he didn’t get the direction I was taking his scary remark. “No, no, the duct tape is just to—Never mind,” he sighed, glancing around at the employees within earshot.

“Hey, fantasy can be very healthy,” I assured him. “I’m flattered. Seriously.”

“Shut up, Tony,” he tried, going for blunt commands instead of colorful threats. Colorful gave me too much to work with, apparently.

We had stopped at the elevator for some reason—presumably to get on it—so I decided for my own safety to be quiet at least until the doors opened. However, Pepper saved me from this unpleasant fate by tapping my shoulder. “Excuse me, sir. Would you like your update on Operation Grill Master now?”

“Operation _what_?” Obadiah asked, justifiably confused.

“My _party_ Saturday,” I clarified, as if it sould be obvious. “The one I invited you to, that you rejected.”

“Oh, that one,” he remembered, rolling his eyes. The elevator arrived and we all stepped on. “Well, if you’re serving any of that disgusting food I tasted, I feel lucky to have escaped.”

“You’re going to miss Pepper’s new swimsuit,” I reminded him. “I haven’t seen it yet, but I assume she’ll look extremely hot in it.”

“How delightful,” he replied dryly, glancing quickly at Pepper to make sure she _really_ didn’t mind such comments of mine. She really didn’t.

“You may proceed with your report, Pepper,” I allowed.

She glanced at her action plan, which I pointed out special to Obadiah in all its unintelligible glory. It was quite similar to the collages I used to make with my dad’s office supplies when I was a kid. “The food and beverages have been selected and I will be obtaining freshly-prepared batches on Saturday morning,” she began. “The swimming pool and hot tub have been cleaned and tested for levels of toxic chemicals, all of which were found to be within the acceptable limits for human exposure as set by the state of California.”

“How reassuring,” I commented. “Obie, did I tell you Pepper wanted to hire a _clown_ for the party?” Obadiah snickered in spite of his current dim attitude towards me. “See?” I pointed out to Pepper. “Clowns are a bad idea all around.”

“My sons love clowns,” Joanna offered.

“Have you checked their rooms for slaughtered pets?” I asked her. It was the first thing that came to mind.

“Tony had a bad experience with a clown when he was young,” Obadiah explained to her, “which he has never gotten over, despite years of therapy.” That was a little joke. I’ve never been in therapy. Strange, huh? “Though I must admit that clown was very obnoxious, and it was quite satisfying when you pushed him into the pool.”

“When was _this_?” Joanna wondered, clearly not aware of this story.

“Last week,” I told her flippantly.

“Oh please,” Obadiah insisted grandly, “let’s be honest here. Tony was committing acts of mayhem when he was only seven.”

“Hey, were you _at_ that party?” I asked, when we had finished chuckling in shared dark humor. “What present did you give me?” That was the important part, right?

“Probably some improving books,” Obadiah admitted.

“I bet I never read them.”

“Obviously.”

We exited the elevator on the first floor of the building and started walking across the lobby. Pepper took the end of our banter to mean she could continue her report. “I have also had the house and grounds cleaned and obtained non-perishable party supplies and grilling necessities.” A little frown entered her voice. “I’ve been attempting to collect all the cows, chickens, goats, and sheep and confine them to the workshop. However, I’m sure you have more chickens tucked away than I’ve found, sir, and if you wish me to do a thorough job—“

“Yes, yes, Pepper, you’re very thorough,” I assured her. Yep, Obadiah and Joanna were giving me curious glances right about now. However, I couldn’t give Pepper a helpful answer since I couldn’t remember which of my vices was represented by chickens. I decided to cut my losses. “Um, let’s talk about the farm animals later, okay, Pepper?”

She seemed disappointed with this loose thread. “If you like, sir.”

Obadiah was smirking at me and I knew a comment was inevitable. “Didn’t realize you were into farm animals, Tony, but somehow I’m not surprised.”

Well, that was fair. “I named the donkey after you,” I assured him blithely.

“Donkey?” Pepper repeated worriedly. “I haven’t found any donkeys, Mr. Stark. We’ll have to go over the house very carefully tonight.”

“No, I just meant—Never mind,” I decided. Codewords gone wild was too complicated to explain to Pepper in the presence of witnesses. Obadiah was thoroughly amused by this point, I could tell, as we left the building and started down the front steps. “So where are we going, anyway?” I asked.

He gave me a look. “We’re going to a meeting.” He indicated Joanna and himself. “Where are _you_ going?”

“Um, the same meeting?” I tried. Something told me this was going to end with me looking dumb.

And indeed, Obadiah was shaking his head. “Not unless you’ve developed a burning interest in water usage costs.”

“Not really, no,” I agreed.

“Then why are you following me?” he prodded, stopping on the sidewalk.

I stopped, too. “Um, well, we were talking, and… I dunno, I was just following you,” I admitted. “I thought we were going somewhere.”

A car pulled up in front of us and Joanna got in first. Obadiah was pretty much openly mocking me now. “If only I could get you to follow me in _more_ things, Tony. But now you’ll have that long walk back up to your office. Perhaps you can finish your barnyard discussion.” He hopped in the car and drove off before I could think of a suitable comeback.

Never let it be said that I was broken by defeat or embarrassment. “It’s a nice day,” I commented to Pepper, looking around. “You wanna go get a smoothie or something?” There was a Smoothie Hut just down the block that we liked.

“Yes, sir,” Pepper agreed with interest. “Now, about those chickens…”

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

The day of the pool party dawned warm and bright. At least I assume it did; I certainly wasn’t awake when it happened. Pepper might have been, since she had to run all over town picking up the food I’d decided on. But the point is, the day was warm and bright when I jogged down the stairs late morning, showered and ready to peel off my shirt and dive into the clean, non-toxic pool.

I stopped short in the kitchen, where Pepper was dishing up the food into serving bowls. “I love these pickles!” I declared, snagging a spear from a container on the counter. “Where’s my coffee?”

“You mustn’t eat before swimming,” Pepper ordered, removing the rest of the pickles from my reach. “You’ll get a cramp and drown.”

Needless to say I rolled my eyes at that. “Where’s my coffee?” I repeated, crunching the pickle noisily. “And why aren’t you wearing your swimsuit?”

“Coffee is food,” Pepper explained loftily. “And I will change into my swimsuit when the time is right.”

That sounded very portentous to me. “If you’re waiting for the heavens to part revealing an angel choir, I’m hoping that’s what will happen _after_ you put on the suit,” I replied. “And do you intend to starve me until lunchtime? Deny me coffee, even?”

“You may have _water_ ,” Pepper allowed, which I took as a yes. Fortunately that was right around the time there was a honk from the driveway and the Rhodes family showed up.

“Uncle Tony!” two small voices squealed, engulfing me. I picked them both up at once and swung them around, much to their delight. “We were at summer camp! Did you get our postcards? We made you an ashtray! It could also hold paperclips if you don’t smoke. And we went camping, and you know what _he_ did? He…”

Meanwhile the adults were greeting Pepper in a friendly but less exuberant manner. Rae had apparently brought the green bean casserole in some kind of complicated-looking container. “It’s all cooked, but we should plug this in about fifteen minutes before serving so it’s nice and hot,” she was telling Pepper.

I ambled over. “Ooh, green bean casserole, that’s Pepper’s _favorite_ ,” I assured them. “Pepper, this is Ellie and Mikey.” Pepper blinked as though just seeing the children for the first time. “This is my assistant, Pepper.”

“Hello,” they chorused with polite shyness.

“Hello, children,” Pepper replied, looking them over. “You seem very energetic and colorful.” No one was quite sure how to take that, since she’d said it in a dubious tone. Having completed her greeting duties, Pepper went back to work. “We can put your food item in the kitchen, Mrs. Rhodes. However, Mr. Stark and I are not accustomed to bowls that require electricity.”

I couldn’t help out with that one, since I _also_ didn’t get why Rae’s pot came with a power cord. Domestic food preparation was not my purview. “Come on, let’s go out to the pool,” I suggested, which was very popular. “Rhodey, you’re gonna love this grill! There are _so_ many knobs and buttons. Pepper and I were playing with it last night and, I swear to G-d, I thought it was going to take off! Straight to Mars. Oh, Pepper!” I stuck my head back into the house. “I hear the angel choir tuning up, so get changed and get out here with your trashy magazines. You bought some, right?”

“Yes, Mr. Stark.”

“ _People_ , _Us_ , _Vogue_ , that kind of thing?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Not _Vanity Fair_ , though, that’s too intellectual,” I warned her. “I saw that lying around, don’t try to sneak it by me.”

“No, sir.”

I headed on out to the pool, which the children were already clogging with inflatable toys of every description. It would be like an icebreaker plowing through the Arctic to swim it. Buster the dog barked excitedly from the patio, alert to any indication that it might be proper to dive into the water and frolic as well. I was trying very hard not to give that sign yet, as I liked to get a _bit_ farther into the day before I was assaulted by the scent of wet dog. Plus I wasn’t sure what Pepper’s reaction might be to the canine swimmer—it seemed fifty/fifty between complete indifference and total meltdown.

Meanwhile, Rhodey was admiring the new grill. And when I said ‘admiring,’ I meant he was looking at it in awe and wonder and envy with the tiniest pinch of guilt thrown in, like a man whose eyes linger on the cover of _Cheerleaders Gone Wild_ while standing in line to rent the latest Disney cartoon for the kids. He didn’t even notice me sneaking up behind him, and he had super military training.

“Touch the knobs, go on,” I whispered in his ear, and he jumped satisfyingly.

“Never sneak up on a man with super military training,” he warned with a glare.

I snickered without remorse. “Isn’t it _beautiful_? Do you know how it works? Can you make it sing its elegant thermal song for us, Rhodey?”

He rolled his eyes. “Depends. Do you have the directions?”

I blinked at him. “It comes with directions? Wow, that would make things a _lot_ easier!”

He sighed, taking my comment as a ‘no.’ But I had faith in his ability to tame the flaming beast. Well, it wasn’t flaming _yet_. But I could fix that with my can of lighter fluid.

“No lighter fluid,” Rhodey snapped, attending to the serious business of grilling. “This will be a gentle gas flame, not an atomic fireball.” Pity, as ‘atomic fireball’ was exactly what I’d been going for. “Now, where’s the meat?”

Together we hauled the slabs of flesh out of the outdoor fridge, feeling much like ancient hunters dragging home a carcass in triumph. “Um, speak for yourself, Tony,” Rhodey decided. “Hmm, these look pretty good.”

“Of _course_ they’re good,” I assured him. “They were the most expensive cuts at George’s Meat Hut! And,” I added excitedly, “I got a huge bucket of George’s Finger-Lickin’ Medium BBQ Glaze! We can ritually bathe in it later.”

Rhodey shook his head. “That stuff _is_ good,” he admitted, “though I prefer George’s A-s-Kickin’ Extra Hot—“

“I know, me too,” I agreed. We commiserated silently on the unfairness of having to dilute our glaze for the safety of weaker stomach linings as Rhodey transferred the meat to the grill.

“Uh, Tony—“ he said after a moment. I attended. “I know you’re just about the most self-centered person alive—“ It takes a close friend to make that assessment. “—but please tell me you didn’t _actually_ have your name branded into these cuts of meat.”

I frowned and leaned forward to examine the markings. “Oh yeah,” I remembered slowly. “I made those, actually.” Rhodey gave me a look that begged for an explanation. “Well, Pepper and I were testing my new laser cutting table the other day, and some of the meat was in the freezer downstairs. Look, there’s an early one she did, she spelled her name wrong!” I laughed.

“Laser cutting table?” Rhodey repeated slowly.

“Hey, it’s precision engineered to cut any shape out of or into metal, glass, wood, plastic,” I argued. “So I thought—why not beef?”

“Yes, why not beef, indeed,” Rhodey responded, though I wasn’t sure he really appreciated my experimental nature.

“Hey, the table was _clean_.” I hovered over him. “So… is there anything else you need? A beer? Tools? Sunshade? Music?”

He gave me a look. “No, thanks, Tony, I’m good,” he assured me. “You can get in the pool now.”

“Hooray!” That was all I had been waiting for. But I wanted to make sure my grill master was properly set. It was a really bad idea to p—s off the grill master or even startled him in any way once the magic had begun—learned that one the hard way.

I yanked my shirt off and tossed it into a chair, then descended into the clear, rippling, sun-warmed, certified non-toxic water of the pool, much to the delight of Ellie and Mikey. “Let’s get some of these out of here for the moment,” I suggested, shoving an inflatable octopus and some kind of floating tic-tac-toe board back onto the patio. “We can trade them around later.” I wanted to actually _use_ the pool, not wade through a logjam of plastic objects. I wondered how Rhodey had managed to drive the car with all of these things stuffed into it.

So the kids and I started splashing around, squealing, generally doing the sort of reason-free, unstructured activities known to psychologists as ‘play.’ Kind of hard to describe in more detail, except to add that it was a lot of fun.

“ _What_ are you doing in the pool?” Rae chastised, appearing suddenly from the house. The swimsuit she was now wearing was, no joke, exactly like the hideous Amish lingerie Pepper had originally sported, except in navy blue instead of black. Which was fine by me, because there was absolutely no reason for me to think of Rae as ‘hot’ at any point in time. She was especially not hot when she glared at us like that. “Didn’t I tell you to wait for a grown-up before getting in the pool?”

“But Uncle Tony’s here!” one child piped up.

“Ye—ah,” I agreed slowly, torn between indignation and caution. What _exactly_ were the parameters of being a ‘grown-up’ in this context?

“Did Uncle Tony make you put sunscreen on first?” Rae quizzed. The answer was obviously ‘no.’ “Then he doesn’t count as a grown-up,” she decided firmly. “Come out so I can put it on you.”

Well, it seemed like splitting hairs to _me_. After all, I’d put sunscreen on _myself_ (with some assistance from Pepper). I might have assumed the children had been similarly basted in preparation. Okay, so really I didn’t think about it at all. But I _might_ have. She didn’t know.

“ _Now_ you may get in the pool,” Rae allowed, and there was much rejoicing. “You look—very nice, Pepper.”

And speaking of much rejoicing—I nearly dropped the kid I was holding as Pepper stepped out onto the patio, wearing one of the tiniest bikinis I had ever been privileged to witness. And I had been to a _lot_ of beaches and pools in my time. Of course, Pepper was incredibly hot just on her own, and the white string bikini basically showed us almost as much Pepper as was legally allowed. Thank G-d the water was a little cool, that’s all I have to say. I didn’t know whether to pray that it was also a thong or not—it might have just been too much for me.

“Tony? Tony!”

“Huh?”

“How do you want your steak done?”

“Yeah, great.”

“Tony!”

Finally I was forced to drag my eyes away from Pepper as she stretched out on a lounge chair with some trashy magazines. “ _What?_ ” Was the world ending or something? If so I intended my last sight to be Pepper in a bikini.

“ _Steak_ , man,” Rhodey persisted, smirking. “How do you want it?”

“Medium,” I told him, just to be obnoxiously vague. He _knew_ how I liked my steak. He was just trying to mess with me. I bobbed over to the foot of Pepper’s chair.

“Pepper? How do you want your steak?”

“I don’t have a preference,” Pepper told him, picking up a magazine. “You don’t really need to cook mine at all, Major Rhodes.” See, what did I tell you?

“Oh, you’re getting your steak cooked,” I informed her, hovering in the water like an alligator waiting to strike. Even her bare feet were attractive. And feet as a general rule were weird-looking, in my opinion. “Don’t think you can get away with gnawing on raw meat when we have guests.” She seemed to realize this comment didn’t require an answer. However, any attempt on her part at giving me a _look_ was lost. “You’re wearing sunglasses,” I observed. “I didn’t know you _owned_ any sunglasses.”

“Sunglasses are considered part of the standard swimsuit uniform, according to my research,” Pepper informed me.

“Are you wearing sunscreen? I bet you aren’t. You need to wear it. Let me help you with that—“

“I have already taken adequate sun protection measures, thank you, Mr. Stark,” Pepper replied, cruelly.

I narrowed my gaze at her. “Put that phone down. No electronics by the pool,” I ordered. “You might get electrocuted. Trashy magazines only.” I sensed her giving me a _look_ as she set her phone on the table. Then she picked up the largest magazine in her stack and held it so that my view of all bikini-related parts was obscured. Clearly, this was deliberate.

I leaned on the concrete a moment longer, possibly several moments, contemplating what I could do to punish or harass her, yet in a family-friendly manner. Also I contemplated her legs, which took a while because there was a lot of them. My contemplation was so intense that I failed to heed the summons from behind me and was quite surprised by the giant splash directed at me, much to Mikey’s delight. I was about to congratulate him on his stealth when I realized Pepper had been splashed, too—and was continuing to be splashed by his antics. And she didn’t like it.

Immediately I picked Mikey up and glided away with him. “Let’s pretend Pepper is a cat,” I told him.

“Why are we pretending Pepper is a cat?” asked Ellie sensibly, joining us.

“Do you remember your grandma’s cat? The grey one?” They did. “Do you remember what happened the time you tried to take the cat swimming?”

They giggled. “It was really funny!”

“It _was_ , wasn’t it? Er, I mean, but the cat didn’t like it, did he?” I corrected, trying to sound wise. They agreed with me on the cat’s rather vociferous disapproval. “So let’s pretend Pepper is a cat. What does that mean we shouldn’t do?”

“We shouldn’t pull her tail,” Mikey decided.

“Er, yeah, best avoid that,” I agreed.

“We shouldn’t try to make her eat marshmallows,” added Ellie solemnly.

I was beginning to feel sorry for this cat, whose torment I had apparently only witnessed briefly. “What else shouldn’t we do, if Pepper is a cat?”

“We shouldn’t shut her in the car with Buster,” Mikey offered.

“Agreed, but I was thinking more about the pool,” I guided.

“I know!” Ellie announced. “We shouldn’t throw her in the pool!”

“Very good!” I praised. “Pepper is like a cat, she doesn’t like to get wet. So let’s not splash her or anything, okay?”

“Okay, Uncle Tony!”

I glanced back at Pepper and saw her studiously dabbing drops of water off her magazine. Well, she didn’t _look_ like she was coming down with hypothermia. I would have to keep an eye on her, though.

**

Later. “Pepper, have you ever considered painting your toenails?” I had been leaning on the edge of the pool staring at her unadorned nails for perhaps sixty seconds.

“Not seriously, no.”

“Maybe you should.”

She set her magazine down so she could give the matter her full attention. “Is there some unattractive aspect to my toenails which you wish me to conceal?”

“Well, no.” Like any part of Pepper was unattractive. “It’s just… You have toenails. You could paint them. People do. It might, er, add adornment.” I really didn’t have anywhere I was going with this topic.

She picked her magazine back up, dismissively I felt. “Perhaps we could adorn our toenails with toxic pigments together, sir.”

“I’m not going to paint my toenails,” I scoffed. Pedicure with a clear, strengthening topcoat, yes. Passion Pink with a hand-applied Swarovski crystal? Not so much. Well, maybe if I thought it would freak someone out. But not for my own joy and pleasure. “And nail polish isn’t toxic. Er, is it?”

“Many leading brands contain formaldehyde,” Pepper pointed out.

I grimaced. “Isn’t that what they preserve dead people with? Er.” She gave no response. “Pepper, investigate brands of nail polish that aren’t associated with dead people,” I instructed decisively.

“Yes, sir.”

**

Later. “You’ve been reading those trashy magazines very diligently,” I observed.

“You instructed me to.”

“I know. It was a compliment.”

“Thank you, sir.”

I hoisted myself out of the pool and sat at her feet. “Put some more sunscreen on me, will you, Pepper?”

“It’s very unlikely that your previous application has washed off already,” she told me, but nonetheless she sat up and reached for the bottle.

“Well, you can’t be too careful with the sun, Pep,” I explained knowledgeably. “It’s evil, you know. We have to be constantly on guard for its subterfuge.”

Pepper carefully dried my back and shoulders with a towel. “And how is the sun deceptive, if I may ask, sir? Except to people who are ignorant of its power.” She put a little too much emphasis on the word ‘ignorant.’

I shrugged under her hands that were carefully applying the sunscreen. “I dunno. I just said it.”

“Ah.”

“Mommy, do we need more sunscreen?” little voices chirped worriedly across the pool.

“No, why?” asked Rae from her perch on a chair with an improving book. Funny how pool parties usually meant only the kids and myself were actually _in_ the pool. And occasionally the dog.

“Uncle Tony’s had to put _his_ on three times!”

Rae gave me a look over the top of her sunglasses, but I unapologetically basked in Pepper’s meticulous attentions. “Uncle Tony must be using a _special_ kind,” she concluded.

**

Later. “Pepper, could you go get me—“ I stopped talking as I noticed the plastic bottle of water sitting on the patio at the foot of her chair. “Is this for me?”

“Yes.”

“When did you get it?”

“About ten minutes ago, sir.”

I was disappointed. I had wanted to _see_ her get up and to find out if that was really a thong. “But I wasn’t thirsty ten minutes ago,” I told her contrarily.

“I anticipated your needs, sir.”

“Oh _that’s_ clearly not true, Pepper.”

**

Later. “So you’re going through those magazines pretty fast.”

“I’m studying them very closely,” Pepper countered.

“There might be a quiz later.”

“I’ll prepare some flashcards, sir.”

Ooh, a little sarcasm there. “Something _wrong_ , Pepper? Aren’t you enjoying the pool party?”

“I confess I don’t really see the point of it, sir.” It took a lot to admit that. I could respect that. “I could be performing my tasks so much more efficiently. For example, if I could use my phone…” Her gaze strayed to the neglected device on the table.

I put that idea down immediately. “Absolutely not! You’re not supposed to be performing tasks with maximum efficiency, Pepper. You’re supposed to be relaxing. You know—relaxing?” Maybe she _didn’t_ know.

“My relaxation needs are met by my normal schedule,” she told me, always difficult.

This seemed unlikely to me. “Are you wearing enough sunscreen?” I questioned severely, trying to throw her off. “I don’t want you to turn up lobster-red later today. You’ll need a full-body coating of some kind of greenish slime to recover.”

“There’s a picture of you in this magazine, sir,” she countered, and I felt she had been saving this information for a special occasion.

“What?!” I hopped out of the pool immediately, trying not to drip on her as I hovered near her chair. Not that it was a huge surprise I had ended up in _Us Weekly_ , it was just that I hadn’t heard from PR about it. She indicated the picture. “Oh my G-d! Holy s—t!”

Little squeals were heard in the background, along with a chastising, “Tony!” But this situation was serious.

“That photo is _totally_ airbrushed!” I insisted. “Don’t you think?” My hand went to the back of my head. “My hair doesn’t _really_ look like that, does it, Pepper?”

“No, sir,” she assured me. “Your hair is still quite thick for a man your age.”

“A man my--?”

“I think the photograph may merely have been taken from an unflattering angle,” she decided.

“I don’t _have_ unflattering angles,” I countered hotly. “That photo is totally faked! Call PR, I’m gonna sue them.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Pepper told me. “I’m prohibited from using my phone for the duration of this pool party.”

You see the cunning trap she laid for me? This little cat-and-mouse game was what I had to deal with every single day. It was extremely trying.

**

Later. “You want to try the hot tub, Pepper?”

“No.”

“Come on, I bet you would like it.”

“You specified that I would not have to get wet during this event.”

“And I meant it,” I assured her. “But I thought you might like the hot tub because it’s, well, really hot. Not much chance of getting cold in it. You remember it from last summer, right?”

“Yes, sir,” she agreed. “It _is_ , in fact, wet?” 

“Well yeah.”

“Then no, thank you, sir.”

I sighed but felt I had to respect our agreement. “Okay. We’re just gonna be about ten or fifteen minutes, then we’ll eat.”

“Yes, sir.”

I rejoined the adults in the hot tub sadly. “No Pepper?” Rhodey surmised astutely. He was being allowed a few minutes of rest from his labors.

“No. She doesn’t like getting wet, you know.”

“Mikey, don’t splash your sister!” Rae called from her seat in the hot tub.

“So that’s Pepper’s new swimsuit, huh?” Rhodey went on.

“Yeah. I think it lives up to the hype, don’t you?” I turned around, kneeling on the hot tub seat. “Pepper, come on, try it! I think you’ll like it.” There was approximately zero response. I turned back around. “Did you see that? She’s totally ignoring me! I _told_ you she was really rude to me.” Proof at last.

“Well you’ve been bugging her all morning, Tony,” Rae noted without sympathy.

“Yeah, but that’s normal.”

“She probably just wants to relax in peace and read,” Rae went on, showing her ignorance of Pepper’s habits.

“No she doesn’t,” I countered. “Pepper doesn’t _know_ how to relax. She’s only reading trashy magazines because I told her to.”

“Ellie! Do _not_ hit your brother with that!” Rae responded, obviously not to me.

“Maybe she’s tired of hanging around you twenty-four-seven,” Rhodey teased.

“Untrue, shockingly,” I assured him. “I couldn’t get rid of her if I tried.” Not that I would. I twisted around to stare at her again. “She’s just doing this to irritate me.”

“She’s not doing _anything_ ,” Rae insisted. “You sound just like the kids. Mikey, I _told_ you—“

I was unchastened by Rae. I was pretty much immune to chastening at this point in my life. “Switch places with me,” I told Rhodey.

“Why?”

“So I can keep an eye on Pepper, of course.”

He sighed but switched places, naturally. “What do you think she’s going to do, start stripping?”

“That is a very remote possibility,” I informed him loftily. “However, I intend to catch her if she does.”

There was a large splash, followed by massive giggling. I tore my eyes away from Pepper momentarily to see that Buster had finally made his entrance into the pool. Well, that didn’t really bother me. The only problem would be when—

“Hey, Buster, c’mere boy!” I coaxed a few minutes later when the dog decided he’d had enough swimming for the moment and started to exit the pool. “Come here, come on!”

Dutifully Buster padded over and I grabbed his collar, right before he shook himself dry in a water-flinging fit. Rhodey and Rae made noises of disapproval.

“Well, I didn’t want him to get Pepper wet,” I explained. “She might catch pneumonia or something.” Geez, we were already sitting in a hot tub, what was wrong with a little more water, albeit dog-flavored?

At last Rhodey, using his advanced knowledge of grilling alchemy, decided it was time to eat. “Okay, everybody out of the pool!” Rae instructed. “Come on, let’s put on some dry clothes!”

“Would you like some dry clothes to wear as well, sir?” Pepper asked me solicitously.

“No, I’m just gonna wrap this towel around me, and put my shirt back on.” I had learned over the years that it was dangerous to eat hot foods without being fully clothed. Sometimes I did it anyway because circumstances really demanded it, but a chest burn from dribbled baked beans could be really painful. Even worse was sweet and sour sauce on the inner thigh, but that was another story.

“I appreciate your caution, sir,” Pepper told me gravely. “Perhaps I, too, should add a layer of clothing for eating?”

Part of me was sad at that idea. But it would probably be quite difficult to concentrate on eating lunch with Pepper sitting across the table in an outfit smaller than a typical set of underwear. And there _was_ her safety to be considered. “But I think maybe you should start wearing this little get-up around the house more often,” I insisted. “Like at breakfast. Or when we’re watching movies.”

She gave me a look. “Swimsuits are only appropriate to wear at pool or beach gatherings,” Pepper decided.

“Well, designer suits aren’t appropriate to wear when we’re vegging on the couch, but you break that rule right and left,” I reminded her. She didn’t have a clever retort ready for _that_ one, which gave me time to think of something else I could do to her. “I know! I have the _perfect_ shirt for you to wear!”

“You do?” Her tone was justifiably suspicious.

“Yes. Stay right here! I’ll go get it. Don’t move!” I dashed into the house, leaving damp footprints on the carpet, fearing that if I took too long Pepper would be fully clothed upon my return. And that would be tragic. I began rooting through my closet, trying to remember where I had last seen this particular item—it had been quite a while, and ever since Pepper had arrived in my life I had completely abandoned thinking about how my wardrobe was organized. There was a distinct possibility she had already discovered the shirt I was after and moved it to one of the other storage areas around the house, or even thrown it out. Pepper could be very harsh that way.

But suddenly—aha, there it was! Buried at the back, slightly wrinkled, hanging lopsidedly on its hanger, which was really as it should be for this item. It wasn’t something I normally wore, that was for sure. But it wasn’t _horrible_. In the proper context, it was in fact perfectly appropriate.

I grabbed the shirt and wadded it up a bit so its glory would be hidden until the last possible moment. Then I hurried back downstairs and out to the patio. Pepper was standing now, which revealed that her bikini was _not_ , in fact, a thong. Sad, but probably for the best, really. My head might have exploded, after all.

And it still might, if Pepper crushed it after seeing what I wanted her to wear. “Ta-da!” I unfurled the shirt before her.

I wish I could adequately describe the expression on her face. It was quite subtle, for one thing, a mere pursing of the lips and narrowing of the eyes (sans sunglasses), but to those fluent in Pepper-ese it clearly said, “What in the h—l is _this_?”

“It’s a Hawaiian shirt!” I pointed out, waving it a bit. The bright palm trees, pineapples, and hibiscus flowers printed on it rippled in a kind of nausea-inducing stagger. Pepper said nothing, merely gazing between me and the shirt. “It’s a _real_ Hawaiian shirt, from Hawaii,” I persisted. “You’ve probably never been to Hawaii. It’s a tropical island with a lot of beaches.”

Pepper shifted her focus entirely to me. The expression said, “I’m not wearing this. You must be insane to think I am.”

“And this is a pool party,” I went on valiantly, “which is in the same category as beach parties, so it’s perfectly appropriate to wear a Hawaiian shirt at this kind of event.” Her stare was penetrating, but I wasn’t one to give up easily. “In fact, it’s traditional. _Someone_ at the party has to wear the Hawaiian shirt, and as host, I designate _you_.”

She wasn’t buying it, I could tell. She kind of raised her eyebrows a bit and looked away, as if to say, “I should have known it would come to this someday.”

“Look, it’s bright and cheerful and—Just wear the d—n shirt already, Pepper!” I ordered, giving up on persuasion.

“As you wish, sir,” she agreed, taking the item. The fun had gone out of it for me, though. She as exceedingly clever that way.

I wandered over to Rhodey, who was stationed at the grill. The womenfolk were bringing food out to the table from the kitchen while the kids whined about being hungry and the dog barked a lot, so it seemed that everyone had a task to do except for me.

“You could _help_ them bring out the food,” Rhodey suggested good-naturedly.

“No, look, they’ve got a system, a schedule,” I pointed out. “Their estrogen receptors have been synched to allow the most efficient transport of food items possible. I would throw a big ol’ testosterone wrench into the system. I would be like a honey bee doing the wrong dance to describe the way to the flower. I would—“

“Or you could stand here thinking up nonsense until all the work is done,” Rhodey added.

“That sounds like a good plan.” I watched Pepper trot out of the house carrying a large bowl of the chosen baked beans. “See, I made her wear that Hawaiian shirt,” I pointed out to my friend. “She didn’t want to. She gave me a lot of lip about it, actually. Oh, you probably heard all that. She’s vicious, isn’t she?”

For some reason this made Rhodey roll his eyes. “She didn’t say _anything_ , Tony,” he insisted, poking at the meat. “She just stood there.”

I frowned. “Really? Oh. Well, I could tell she _wanted_ to be vicious. She just didn’t want to have witnesses.”

“Right,” Rhodey agreed without conviction. “You’re lucky you finally found an assistant who puts up with your little whims and paranoid fantasies. I thought you’d be breaking in a new one every six months for the rest of your life.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I replied, with concern for my pal’s dubious mental state. “Have you been standing over the gas fumes for too long?”

Rhodey shook his head. “I _said_ , you’re lucky you finally found an assistant who is very good at her job and is also quite attractive,” he clarified.

“Oh, yeah, totally agree,” I assured him enthusiastically. “And she’s really smart. Most of the women I meet who are as hot as Pepper can’t string three words together. Not that I’m complaining about that.”

“I think you meet a very skewed sampling of attractive women, Tony,” Rae opined from the table.

“Do moans count as words?” I asked Rhodey under my breath. “If so, they’re a lot smarter than I thought.” We snickered naughtily.

“I heard that!” Rae warned, though I was sure she hadn’t.

“Steak’s done!” Rhodey announced cheerfully. “Who had well-done?”

**

“—so then I said, ‘You ate some, didn’t you! You ate the dog food!’” The children cackled relentlessly at the idea of a person mistakenly eating dog food. Rhodey and Rae reserved their mirth, however, since Pepper’s reaction to the story was hard to interpret. “And then Pepper said… You know what Pepper said?”

“It was good?” guessed Mikey, giggling.

“Nope. Pepper said, ‘Actually I fed the dog food to _you_!’ So _I_ really ate the dog food!” At this, the adults joined in the laughter, since they were laughing now at self-aware _me_ , not potentially un-self-aware Pepper. “She’s like, ‘I thought it would keep your coat glossy.’ Isn’t that hilarious? It was really gross, too! She thought it was cereal, I ate it with milk…”

“Green bean casserole?” Rae offered.

“No.”

“No, thank you.”

“Already had some, thanks.”

“No, you didn’t!”

“Hush!”

“Pepper will have some more.”

“Yes, thank you. It seems very nutritious.”

I gave Rhodey a knowing look. “Just leave the pot here, it’ll feed Pepper for another couple hours,” I assured Rae.

**

“—so the private turns around and says, ‘Actually, sir, it was the blue—‘”

“Pepper! Why are you unbuttoning your shirt?!” I interrupted. This was of the utmost importance.

“I’m afraid I accidentally sullied it with baked beans, sir.”

“Accidentally, my a-s!”

“Tony!”

“Pepper, _you_ don’t drop _food_ ,” I pointed out. “It’s physically impossible for you!”

“Tony, it was just an accident—“

“I fear the shirt may be ruined, sir,” Pepper persisted coolly. “I’ll have to dispose of it.”

I narrowed my eyes, seeing through her little deception. “Nice try, Pep. You’re not getting out of the Hawaiian shirt. And, now you not only have to wear it, er, Hawaiian, you have to wear it _stained_ , too!” She gave me a poisonous look but realized the limits of her position.

“Tony, you are so childish sometimes,” Rae muttered, rolling her eyes.

Rhodey gave me a sideways glance to check my reaction, but he needn’t have worried. “I know! Isn’t it great?” I replied cheerfully. “It’s just like that movie _The Toy_ , with Pepper as Richard Pryor. Only she isn’t as accommodating.”

Rhodey sensed we were drifting into weird territory here and cleared his throat. “So anyway, the private turns around and says…”

**

“—so Billy is sort of the class clown, a really sweet boy but he definitely has some issues and—“

“ _Clowns_ , Pepper,” I whispered.

“What was that, Tony?” Rae asked, giving me her best ‘share with the class’ teacher gaze.

Eh, those had never worked on me, either. At least not the way they were supposed to. “You mentioned _clowns_ ,” I told her innocently. “Pepper wanted to hire a _clown_ for this party. Can you believe that? A clown or—what was the other thing? Some kind of animal.”

“A monkey,” Pepper supplied. “My research into children’s parties indicated—“

“Yeah, a clown or a monkey,” I agreed. “She must have been researching children’s parties from h—l or something—“

“Tony!” Rae reproved. “Anyway, I like clowns. I think they’re very funny.”

“Yeah, you would,” I decided darkly. “You have to have a real sadistic streak to enjoy a clown.”

“Tony!” That one was from Rhodey, but I was standing by my principles this time.

“Dude, your wife likes _clowns_. You’re gonna have to live the rest of your life with that knowledge,” I pointed out. “I feel sorry for you, living in fear of the day she snaps and comes after you with a meat cleaver and a balloon animal—“

“Tony!” That one was a duet from the Rhodeses. Well, they could live in denial all they wanted. But sooner or later, all clown-lovers came to a sticky (seltzer-and-cream-pie-covered) end.

“Mr. Stark had an unfortunate encounter with a clown in his youth,” Pepper supplied. “The event has left deep psychological scars.”

“Well, I don’t know about _deep_ ,” I countered. I mean, Pepper’s version kind of made me sound like a raving lunatic. “I just have an intense aversion to clowns, that’s all. And magicians. They’re of the same ilk.”

“What’s an ilk?” asked Ellie.

“It’s like a moose,” Mikey replied knowledgeably.

“Which is a fluffy dessert,” Pepper supplied. “Or a small pestilent rodent, I can’t remember.”

“Stop,” I begged her. “Don’t try to explain things, Pepper. You just make it worse.”

“Tony! That was very rude!” Rae judged.

“Didn’t you beat up a clown once in college?” Rhodey interjected, trying to change the subject.

“How is it rude?” I protested to Rae. “It’s true! I mean, now the kids are gonna think clowns and magicians are—of the same fluffy dessert!”

“Or is the dessert the one that’s hot and sandy?” Pepper wondered.

“Well people get mixed up sometimes, you don’t have to be insulting about it,” Rae told me.

“No, wait, it was a mime, wasn’t it?” Rhodey recalled, a bit desperately.

“Fried ice cream is hot, and it looks like it’s been rolled in sand,” Pepper mused.

“Look, Pepper’s not insulted! She’s still going on about sand or something! If she were really insulted she’d shut up.”

“Ooh, Uncle Tony said a bad word!”

“Mommy says we don’t tell people to shut up!”

“We don’t? Hmm, it happens to me all the time. Anyway, I didn’t _tell_ her to shut up, it was a conditional clause—“

“Just because Pepper has gotten used to your insults, doesn’t mean that you can—“

“I don’t care for sand, though, it’s very messy and apparently indigestible—“

“Not unlike a certain green bean casserole—“

“That mime kicked your a-s, Tony!”

“Jim!”

“Daddy said a bad word!”

“Whoa, did he? I don’t remember that part, I was pretty s—t-faced—“

“Tony!”

“Uncle Tony said another bad word!”

“What’s a mime? Oh, you make them, don’t you, and bury them in the ground and they explode when someone steps on them.”

“Oh, yeah, it’s a big problem, there’s dozens of war zones all around the world absolutely seeded with mimes. Then when the war’s over you can’t even walk to school without Marcel Marceau popping up in front of you and trying to get out of an invisible box—“

“Aaaaaaahhhhhh!” The conversational melee ended in several squeals as Buster, who had decided to go for a dip again, now decided to get out and shake himself dry all over us.

“Pepper, are you okay?” I asked immediately. I snatched Rhodey’s towel from the arm of his chair before he could use it himself. “Here, dry off really well. Do you need to go change?” Granted, Pepper had been on the far side of the table from Buster, but you couldn’t be too careful in a situation like this.

“I think I do, sir,” she decided, although she wasn’t actually that wet.

“Okay, Pepper, you win,” I sighed. “You may go remove the Hawaiian shirt and put on a suit or ball gown or whatever. But we’re going to be back in the pool soon, so you’ll have to resume your lounging duties, properly attired,” I reminded her.

“You mustn’t get in the pool for thirty minutes after the last food item is consumed,” Pepper warned me again, severely, as she rose. “You’ll get a cramp and drown. And that would be very sad.” She patted my shoulder as she walked by.

“Thank you, Pepper.”

“Yeah, sad like getting beat up by a mime,” Rhodey added.

“Was it a mime, or just a French guy in stripes and a beret?” I asked. My memory of that incident was a bit hazy. “Well, either way it’s bad to be on the losing end of _that_ stick.”

“Pepper’s so pretty,” Ellie was saying. “She looks just like Barbie!”

“Please. Barbie’s way more top-heavy,” I countered.

“For goodness sake—“ Rae began, clearly at the end of her rope with me.

“Er, by which I mean, Barbie’s smarter,” I tried, desperately. Well, _that_ didn’t help. “Er, I mean, Barbie’s an astronaut and a veterinarian and a doctor and a hair stylist and a fashion model, so clearly her IQ is astronomical. Like up there in my range.”

“Are you an astronaut, Uncle Tony?” Mikey asked in some confusion.

“Not technically, no,” I admitted, “but I did steal a space shuttle once. Your dad and I used it to fight Nazis on the moon.”

“Cool!”

“Honestly, Tony, they’re going to think you’re telling the truth about these things.”

“Okay, the Nazis on the moon part wasn’t true.” I decided to head off further questions about the event that the US government officially said never happened (hey, not like I was going to do something _ordinary_ over Spring Break). “Ellie, Pepper’s got a wardrobe as big as Barbie’s, too. Run after her and see if she’ll show it to you.”

“Okay!”

Awkward silence descended over the remaining four of us. “Uh… so what were we talking about?” I asked. Rae just sighed and rolled her eyes.

We finished eating the main meal and broke out the chocolate cupcakes for dessert, but Ellie and Pepper still hadn’t returned. It was unlike Pepper to neglect food, so I went in search of them. The kitchen was empty, the living room too. Finally I made my way to Pepper’s bedroom in the back and rapped on the door.

“Yo, Pep! Are you still in there? You’re missing food! Have you seen Ellie?” Pepper opened the door to me. “Hmm, well, I didn’t _literally_ mean you should change into a ball gown,” I admitted, upon surveying her pink and poofy attire. “But I can see how you wouldn’t know that.”

“Pepper’s wearing the same dress Barbie has!” Ellie announced from deeper inside the room, and my lovely assistant stepped aside so I could enter.

“Ellie and I are playing dress-up,” Pepper informed me gravely.

I tried to remain serious as well, but it was difficult when Pepper’s normally orderly room was currently strewn with dresses, coats, shoes, and accessories, with Ellie standing in the center of it wearing a designer skirt as a dress and dripping with jewels. “That’s, erm, that’s great!” I told them. “Pepper and I play dress-up all the time, don’t we, Pep? That’s why she has so many pretty clothes.”

“Do you like my crown?” Ellie demanded vainly, and I knelt down beside her for a better look. The ‘crown’ appeared to be made from a ruby-and-diamond necklace I had given Pepper a while back, carefully pinned into Ellie’s hair. That was in addition to the other necklaces, bracelets, hair clips, and clip-on earrings she had doused herself with. I estimated the little girl’s net worth at that moment to be more than the annual output of some countries.

“I _love_ your crown!” I assured her. “You look _so_ beautiful. Aren’t those sparkly? Pepper loves sparkly things. Hey, let’s go show your mom and dad!” Ellie trotted happily ahead. “You want me to keep her out of your stuff?” I offered to Pepper quietly. I couldn’t quite tell how she felt about this turn of events.

“No, it’s alright,” Pepper decided, which I thought was very mature of her. I was afraid she was throwing a little fit inside because her clothes were no longer ordered precisely according to the color spectrum or something. Or because her diamonds might, at this very moment, be getting covered in George’s Finger-Lickin’ Medium BBQ Glaze. “They can be cleaned,” she reminded me. “Diamonds constitute the most durable natural substance on Earth.”

“Well, it’s very nice of you to play with Ellie,” I added. I didn’t want her to think her generosity had gone unnoticed. Especially as it was so uncharacteristic of her.

“Thank you, sir,” Pepper replied. “The child seems remarkably intelligent and forthright, unlike many of the adults I deal with regularly.”

I wanted to take that as a dig, but we had gotten back to the patio where Rhodey and Rae were suitably awed by their queen for the day. “Dude, are those _real_ diamonds?” Rhodey asked me, in a man-to-man way.

“Well _yeah_ ,” I assured him. “I don’t get Pepper any of the fake stuff. All her bling is one-hundred-percent genuine.”

“You bought your mere assistant all that _real_ jewelry.” He sounded skeptical, but I wasn’t sure about which part.

“Well I didn’t _steal_ them,” I replied with some indignation. “And Pepper has a very demanding job, you know. Lounging in the sun with those trashy magazines was really tough for her. I see she’s managed to squeak out of wearing her bikini for longer, though,” I observed. “Have I mentioned how sly she is?”

Rhodey rolled his eyes. “I guess you’ll just have to throw another pool party then, so you can force her to wear it again.”

I shrugged at his suggestion. “Don’t get me wrong, today has been a blast, but it was so much work! On the other hand, maybe now that Pepper’s seen it done once, she can just arrange everything herself next time. She seems really set on this clown thing, though, she may try to sneak one in under my nose,” I predicted. “I don’t know what the obsession is.”

Rhodey didn’t seem to have an answer for this, but I couldn’t blame him. Clown fixation was impossible to respond to rationally. As well he knew, what with Rae’s predilection and all. “Come here,” he said instead, drawing me towards the grill.

“Ooh, did you discover the musical coffee grinder function?” I asked eagerly.

“Not exactly.”

“Are we telling secrets in general?” I guessed as he opened the lid of the grill and pulled me behind it. “I know one about Pepper. She sleeps in the nude! Okay, your turn.”

He gave me a look. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” he decided, which was disappointing because I assumed it meant I wouldn’t get a secret in return. Instead he picked up an odd stick-like object with bristles at one end. “I’m going to show you how to clean the grill, Tony. It’s really very—“

“Pepper!” I summoned as soon as he said the words ‘to clean.’ “Pepper takes all my notes for me on these kinds of things. Plus she _likes_ to clean things.”

“Hang on, hang on,” Rhodey countered, grabbing my arm. He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial level. “Actually, you were right before, Tony.”

“Well yeah,” I agreed, having no idea what he was talking about. But I liked being right.

“I _do_ have a secret to share with you.”

“Ah,” I said knowingly. “Never mind, Pepper. As you were.” She went back to eating cupcakes. “So what’s the secret? It isn’t anything gross, right? Like, I don’t want to know that _Rae_ sleeps in the nude.”

“The secret,” Rhodey revealed, ignoring my comment admirably, “is that only _men_ can properly clean grills.” I gave him a suspicious look. “Now don’t go spreading this around. You know how Rae is, and—“

“A femi-Nazi?” Okay, that was an exaggeration, I admit it.

“We don’t use that term,” Rhodey demurred, but I assumed that meant he agreed with me. “But most of the time, I’m the first to say a woman can do anything as well as a man can. _But_ —cleaning a grill properly is one task that really requires testosterone. Estrogen won’t cut the grease, you know what I mean?” I nodded slowly. I _wanted_ to know what he meant. “Cleaning a grill is a—manly art, Tony.”

“Ohhh,” I agreed with understanding. “Like playing air hockey, or peeing standing up.”

“Now you’re catching on,” he assured me. “Step closer, my boy, and learn the manly art of grill cleaning…”

**

“Okay, is everything in the car? Toys? Dog? Swimsuits? Leftovers?” Rae called across the yard.

“Not the green bean casserole, though, right?” I checked, still at my post behind the grill. The manly art of grill cleaning was also a _tedious_ art, though in a manly way that required patience and attention to detail. I felt I would be quite accomplished when I had completed the task.

“Right, we’re leaving the green bean casserole for Pepper,” Rae agreed. “I’m flattered she liked it so much.” I almost pointed out that Pepper would eat anything, but then I realized that would ruin my clever plan. “Say good-bye to Uncle Tony, kids.”

“Good-bye, Uncle Tony,” said two little voices that were considerably less energetic than they had been that morning.

I paused in my labors to embrace them. “Good-bye! Hope you didn’t get too much sun. The extra cupcakes are in the blue container in the backseat, I saw your mom hide them there.”

“When can we have another pool party, Uncle Tony?” Mikey asked.

“Come back next weekend,” I invited impulsively. “I’m going to host a telethon for all the children who’ve lost limbs in random mime attacks. When ‘walking the invisible dog’ goes horribly wrong…”

That went over the kids’ heads, fortunately. “One last tasteless remark before we leave,” Rae sighed with resignation, kissing my cheek. “Thank you for the party, Tony.”

“No problem.”

Pepper glided up behind me, now in a white column dress ‘just like Barbie’s’ that gave her a ghostly aura in the fading light. “Don’t worry, sir,” she assured me comfortingly. “I’m sure you taste very nice. After you’ve showered, anyway.”

“Thank you, Pepper.” What else could one say to that?

“Great party, man,” Rhodey assured me. “Great grill, too. I expect to see it here next time, clean and shiny.”

“Well, no one ever said the manly arts were easy,” I sighed.

He grinned. “Nope, they sure didn’t. See you, man.”

“See you.”

There’s a very quiet sort of feeling that descends on a place after the party is over and all the guests have gone, especially if it was a daylight party that ended at dusk. It was really depressing, actually. Maybe that was why I didn’t really host many parties at home.

“Are you going to come inside now, sir?” Pepper asked, no doubt sensing my sudden downturn in mood. “There are leftovers to consume, and you had indicated you wished to watch a movie about a master jeweler.”

I blinked at her. “Oh. _Lord of the Rings_ , actually. Yeah, I’ll be in as soon as I finish cleaning the grill.”

Now it was Pepper’s turn to blink. “Would you like me to clean the grill for you later?”

“Thanks, Pep, but grill cleaning is a manly art,” I informed her. I felt it was okay to point that out as long as I didn’t reveal any secrets of the brotherhood that Rhodey had passed on.

“I cleaned the previous grill, before you gave it to Mrs. Salyer’s brother-in-law’s son,” Pepper pointed out.

“Oh? You did? Really?”

“Yes, sir. The recipient seemed satisfied with my efforts.”

“Oh.” I dumped the bristly brush back into the grill. All that scrubbing was ruining my manicure anyway. “Well, grill cleaning _is_ a manly art, but I expect your attempt will be acceptable,” I decided, somewhat cheered. The only thing worse than standing in the middle of the yard in the dark, alone, after the party was over was standing there to clean a grill. “Let’s go get those bourbon beans and watch a movie.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for this series for now. I have about three more stories written, but not yet typed; I will post them in the future. Thanks for reading!
> 
> I will next be posting Star Trek: Enterprise stories, if anyone is interested.


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